


even as it drifts away from you

by omoiyaris



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Friends With Benefits, Future Fic, M/M, Minor Hinata Shouyou/Kozume Kenma, Post-Time Skip, Unresolved Feelings, but like... just mentioned, some Nekoma grads pop up but mostly just Kai
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27070894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omoiyaris/pseuds/omoiyaris
Summary: At lunch, he reconsiders and stops himself just short of searching up ‘distance from Tokyo to Russia’ because he’s not lovesick or sappy like that and, you know, Russia is abig fucking country.Yaku didn’t even mention where he was going to be staying, so the results wouldn’t be accurate.Yaku's moving to Russia, and objectively, it has nothing to do with Kuroo, except it does.
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Yaku Morisuke
Comments: 17
Kudos: 130





	even as it drifts away from you

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes we write questionable things to cope with stress part 2: the electric boogaloo.

“So,” Yaku begins, staring up at the ceiling. “What do you think of Russia?” 

“Lovely country,” Tetsurou says automatically. Sunlight filters through the space between his curtains, casting a warm golden glow over Yaku’s pale form. Tetsurou turns and props his head up to admire the view, a lazy smile stretching across his face. “Good vodka. Cold. Comrade?” He’s never given much thought to Russia. Could probably tell you a little more about Brazil, he reflects, but not _Russia_. “Why?”

Yaku idly kicks at the covers to free his legs. “I might be going there,” he says after a pause, still not looking at Tetsurou. He shifts and the light falls on a bruise Tetsurou doesn't remember leaving above his hip. 

His fingers ghost over the tender patch of skin, then still as Yaku’s words sink in. “Like, on a trip?” 

“No, to play. For Cheegle Ekaterinburg.” 

“Bless you.”

“I didn’t _sneeze_ , stupid.” With a huff, he rolls over and fixes Tetsurou with an unreadable expression, his mouth pinched. “I just thought I should tell you.”

“Oh.” Tetsurou realizes that Yaku isn’t really asking for his opinion on Russia or the move, and neither is he asking for advice. No hesitant _should I go?_ here. He’s made up his mind and this is his blunt, ill-timed attempt to inform Tetsurou of his plans. “Okay. Sounds fun.” Upon further inflection, he throws in a, “Thank you,” because it’s probably considerate of Yaku to let him know. 

He doesn’t know what else to add. Tetsurou would never say _don’t go_ and Yaku would never listen. He picks the safest option instead, before the silence between them can grow heavier than it already has. “Do you want to stay for breakfast?”

Yaku’s mouth twitches. “Sure,” he says, and slips his leg between Tetsurou’s.

Neither of them give any indication of moving anytime soon. Tetsurou chuckles hoarsely and runs his tongue over his teeth. “What do they eat for breakfast in Russia? Cereal in vodka?”

Yaku looks at him, exasperated, before letting out a short laugh. “I’ll find out and let you know.” 

* * *

Tetsurou searches up ‘Russia’ at work the next day and reads through approximately 15% of the country’s Wikipedia page before leaning back in his chair and dropping his head into his hands. The information isn’t tough to absorb; he simply comes to the conclusion that he’s fine knowing fuck-all about Russia because, objectively, it has nothing to do with him. 

At lunch, he reconsiders and stops himself just short of searching up ‘distance from Tokyo to Russia’ because he’s not lovesick or sappy like that and, you know, Russia is a _big fucking country_. Yaku didn’t even mention where he was going to be staying, so the results wouldn’t be accurate. 

He really shouldn’t care. Or, he should care, but not like this. They’re not in a relationship—never have been, never tried to be. There was a time when Tetsurou used to think, _what if_ , but he’s long since outgrown idle fantasies. He’s alright with how they work now—sort of like a stray cat, Yaku comes and goes as he pleases. Tetsurou takes what he gets, learning little by little to let go of his greed. 

So Yaku isn’t obligated to take his thoughts into consideration when it comes to his career trajectory. Tetsurou should just suck it up and congratulate him on his new team, maybe, but. _But_. 

“What would you do if the guy you’re in love with is moving to Russia?” he asks Kenma over dinner, which is a generous way of saying that Tetsurou shows up with takeout in his hands on one of those rare days Kenma isn’t streaming (he checked). 

Kenma looks unimpressed by his line of questioning. “Are you trying to get me to talk about Shouyou using hypotheticals?” 

“No?” To be fair, Tetsurou has in the past, but this time he’s just sincerely asking for advice. “As happy as I am to help you and Shorty figure your shit out, this isn’t about him.” He’s talking to Kenma about this instead of Kai or Bokuto because 1) Kenma is his oldest and dearest friend and 2) he can relate somewhat to Tetsurou’s predicament, though he and Hinata are actually in a committed relationship and not whatever his thing with Yaku is.

“Then, plan a trip to Russia, I guess?” Kenma brings his chopsticks to his mouth and shrugs. “Think about moving there… if he’s not planning on coming back?” 

Hm. Sound advice, Tetsurou supposes, except that—

“Yaku doesn’t know I’m in love with him.” He’s discarding the hypotheticals in desperation to figure out where to go from here. Thankfully, Kenma’s used to it and doesn’t react beyond a faint frown at the words ‘Yaku’ and ‘love’. Maybe he’s frowning at the whole statement. Tetsurou doesn’t know.

“What?”

“I never told him.” Love. It’s so goddamn final, isn’t it? So all-or-nothing. Tetsurou could easily be an all-or-nothing kind of person. He teeters on the edge of it. “If I followed him to Russia, that would be kinda creepy.” 

“I think Yaku-san already knows you’re creepy,” Kenma says flatly. “Why didn’t you tell him?” 

With a sigh, Tetsurou reaches for his unopened can of beer. “I didn’t realize it for the longest time.” He likes to think he’s more self-aware than the average person—except when it comes to matters of the heart, apparently. “Bold of you to assume I can tell the difference between _horny_ and love. It took a lot of introspection to get to this point, alright?”

Kenma’s expression morphs into one of disdain, or possibly disgust. “Then have a ‘what are we’ conversation before you end up alone in Siberia or something because Yaku-san doesn’t want to see you.”

Tetsurou can’t argue with that. 

* * *

Yaku doesn’t contact him for the rest of the week. This is nothing out of the ordinary; they don’t really talk every day to begin with, so Tetsurou shouldn’t think much of the silence. But he can’t help the small pool of anxiety bubbling in his stomach. 

He’s not sure what he’s nervous about. It’s not like Yaku is going to hop on a plane without saying goodbye and he won’t know until Yaku texts him from Russia at ass o’ clock because time zones, only to say something like, _Russians are sexy_. 

Hm. Tetsurou pulls out his phone during his commute home and stares at his message history with Yaku. He knows Yaku isn’t cruel or flighty enough to vanish without a word, but just in case, he types out a few texts. 

> **TO: YAKU PAISEN**  
>  so russians don’t eat cereal with vodka   
> for breakfast i mean  
> i’m sure they could if they really wanted to  
> but apparently it’s more like porridge or sandwiches  
> or blinis  
> i don’t know what that is but they have it 

His palms are uncharacteristically clammy as he waits for a response. The familiar din of the train is drowned out by the intensity of his nerves. After a few painstaking minutes, his screen lights up. 

> **FROM: YAKU PAISEN**  
>  why are you googling russian breakfasts when you should be eating dinner 

Relief floods through him as he reads Yaku’s response, fingers flying across the keyboard as he replies in a rush of messages.

> **TO: YAKU PAISEN**  
>  i’m on the train!   
> anyway as your friend and former captain it’s my duty to prepare you for the inevitable culture shock you will experience in Russia  
> so i’m doing research in my free time out of the goodness of my heart  
> aren’t i such a kind person?
> 
> **FROM: YAKU PAISEN**  
>  gross

Tetsurou snickers and moves to tuck his phone back in his pocket when another message arrives. 

> **FROM: YAKU PAISEN**  
>  mind if i come over tonight? 

Sometimes Yaku doesn’t ask. Sometimes he just shows up after practice, his hair still damp from a shower, and punches in the code to Tetsurou’s apartment without fanfare and climbs into Tetsurou’s bed. Sometimes he makes his dick appointments weeks in advance, squeezing Tetsurou into his otherwise busy schedule. 

Sometimes they don’t even really fuck when Yaku is over; instead, they end up cuddling on the couch while arguing over which movie to watch. Tetsurou always backs down before Yaku can concede and laughs as Yaku looks at him with faint surprise. 

Sometimes Yaku is just there and Tetsurou doesn’t want him to leave—but Yaku does, every time, whether it’s for his own apartment or now, for Russia. He swallows past the sudden lump in his throat and sends a reply.

> **TO: YAKU PAISEN**  
>  bring vodka :)

* * *

Yaku brings vodka. Tetsurou doesn’t recognize the brand, but it looks fancy and expensive and really strong. Tetsurou quickly lets him into his apartment before dashing back to the kitchen, trusting that Yaku knows where the house slippers are. He should, considering he drops by at least a few times a month, and Tetsurou doesn’t reorganize in his absence. 

“I can’t believe you splurged,” he says accusingly, gesturing to the bottle of vodka cradled in Yaku’s arms as the latter enters the kitchen. 

“I didn’t buy this; it was a gift from Lev. He heard about Russia and wanted to give me something to remember him by.” He sets the bottle down on the counter and crosses his arms over his chest. “I would’ve been fine with a keychain or something, but I guess the alcohol is thematically appropriate.”

“I don’t think you’re going to be in a position to remember anything when you finish that bottle.” Tetsurou finishes making his dinner—nothing fancy, just a simple vegetable stir fry over rice—and plates enough for two. “Want to do a shot?”

Yaku shrugs. “Sure.”

The vodka _burns_ on the way down, and Tetsurou decides to stick to beer and sake for the foreseeable future. Grimacing, he tosses the shot glass into the sink and heads to the table with his meal. Yaku joins him and stuffs his face, even though he’s probably already eaten. Tetsurou wouldn’t admit it easily, but watching Yaku enjoy his food stirs his heart a bit. 

Yaku offers to do the dishes as thanks, and Tetsurou takes the chance to change out of his work clothes into something more comfortable. When he returns to the living room, Yaku is on the couch, fiddling with his phone. Dropping beside him, he slings an arm over Yaku’s shoulder and tries to squint down at the screen.

He’s looking at plane tickets. Of course. 

Suddenly, Tetsurou doesn’t care all that much about what Yaku’s doing, or maybe he cares too much. He retracts his hand and reaches for the remote, but the sound of Yaku’s voice halts him in his tracks. 

“You ever—” Yaku stops and seems to think better of it. With a shake of his head, he says, “Never mind. I don’t want to know.” 

“Don’t want to know what?” 

For a moment, he thinks Yaku is going to insist on dropping the subject, but his spine abruptly straightens. Turning with a determined sort of air about him, he leans forward and presses Tetsurou further into the couch. “I do want to know,” he says grimly. “Even if it’s just for me.”

Tetsurou’s heartbeat echoes in his ears. “ _What_ are you talking about?”

“Did you ever have feelings for me beyond just,” Yaku’s eyes are remarkably clear as he searches for something in Tetsurou’s face. “I dunno. Friendship. _Sex_. Whatever. Did you ever have feelings for me?”

Tetsurou wants to laugh. _You really need to ask me that to know?_ But of course Yaku does or he wouldn’t have brought it up. “I did,” he half-lies. Even if he's changed the tense, the meaning behind it is honest. He forces his voice to sound as light and nonchalant as possible, as if recalling an old joke. “But then I realized if we ever dated for real, we’d probably drive each other crazy.”

Yaku sits back and seems to seriously consider that. They’re a long way from their petty disagreements in high school, but relationships come with their own set of problems even when you do get along. Feelings aren’t enough on their own. Tetsurou knows that, has seen it even with Kenma and Hinata as the distance and their individual growth sometimes threatens to pull them apart. 

He isn’t one to shy away from a challenge, and neither is Yaku. But while Tetsurou doesn’t fear failure, he does fear loss. At some point he was scared of it enough to settle, to swallow his wants, to accept whatever comes his way. He’s wondered every now and then if he’s done himself—and Yaku—a disservice by that, but he can’t really imagine doing things differently either. 

“Probably,” Yaku agrees finally. “I mean, you already drive me to drink.” 

“In a good, ‘oh, Kuroo, you’re so hot I can’t think straight around you’ way?”

The tension dissipates from the air as Yaku laughs and gives him a good-natured shove. “You wish,” he says fondly, affectionately, and Tetsurou decides suddenly that he wants to know too, just for himself. 

“Did—” His mouth is dry. “Did you? Ever have feelings?”

Yaku’s eyes are far away as he sinks into thought. “Same as you, I think. I guess it doesn’t really matter anymore,” he says after a pause. “It’s not like anything would change even our answers were different. It’s not like I regret however things happened either.” He lifts a shoulder and drops it in a half-shrug. 

There’s something absurd about this situation, if you care enough to look. Tetsurou finds that he hates past tense all of a sudden, but like Yaku said, it’s not like anything would— _could_ —change even if he meant it presently. Maybe the taste in his mouth would be a tad more bitter. “I suppose you’re right, Yakkun.”

“I’m always right.” Yaku’s eyes suddenly narrow and he reaches over to pinch Tetsurou. “When are you going to call me Morisuke?”

“You want me to _first name_ you outside of the bedroom?”

“Just—“ Yaku’s ears slowly turn red. “Just say it _once_. Morisuke. It’s not that hard.”

It isn’t, objectively. It’s not even like Tetsurou hasn’t said it before. But he feels something knot in his stomach and wets his lips before saying, “Call me Tetsurou first.”

Yaku rolls his eyes, but acquiesces. “Tetsu,” he says softly, almost shyly. “Tetsurou. There, happy?” 

_Shit_ , Tetsurou thinks, and then, _fuck_ for another reason. The light glints off Yaku’s eyes prettily, and his cheeks are dusted with a pale, sakura blossom pink. He’s breathless, and weightless, and wants things he has no right to demand from Yaku, not now when he’s almost slipped from Tetsurou’s grasp, but—

“I’m happy,” he says thicky. “Thanks, Morisuke.” 

Yaku doesn’t say anything for a moment, then grabs the collar of Tetsurou’s shirt and pulls him down for a soft kiss. Maybe Tetsurou is projecting, but in the moment, he tastes something almost regretful on Yaku’s lips and wants to laugh. _Me too._

* * *

Yaku returns home without staying the night, citing early morning commitments he can’t get out of. He leaves the vodka with Tetsurou though; he’s not sure if it’s out of kindness or meant to be a tongue-in-cheek joke, but it sits there on his counter long after Yaku is gone, caught in a sort of silent stare-down with Tetsurou. He folds first, reaching for a glass and pouring himself a drink to chase down the bitterness.

Unwisely, he eventually pulls out his phone and opens his messages with Yaku once more.

> **TO: YAKU PAISEN**  
>  im goign to regret this  
> but im drinkign vodka and it is fhckkng STRONGK and also i wanted to say it properly once

He pauses, his fingers trembling.

> **TO: YAKU PAISEN**  
>  ~~i love you~~ _* deleted!_  
>  i’m going to miss you

The reply is quick to arrive.

> **FROM: YAKU PAISEN**  
>  ugh  
> i shouldn't have left the vodka with you  
> drink some water

Tetsurou opts for more vodka instead.

> **FROM: YAKU PAISEN**  
>  i’m going to miss you too  
> don’t get a big head
> 
> **TO: YAKU PAISEN**  
>  my heads already big ):  
> will you love me even if i have a big head

He stares down at the word love, love, love until it seems to leap off the screen and punch him in the face. The joke here is that he means it. _I want you to love me. Please still love me, no past tenses_. The joke here is that _he’s_ a fucking joke, that it takes the threat of Russia to make him finally face this goddamn feeling in his chest properly instead of skirting around the issue and giving it a partial acknowledgement for so many years.

Yaku’s response is almost gentle.

> **FROM: YAKU PAISEN**  
>  get some sleep
> 
> **TO: YAKU PAISEN**  
>  yuor dodging the question 
> 
> **FROM: YAKU PAISEN**  
>  you’re so annoying  
> of course i’ll love you, big head and all

Tetsurou grips the phone to his chest and lets out something between a laugh and hiccup. _Sure_ , he thinks. _Sure. Good enough._

* * *

Morning brings a hangover with a helping of shame, but also some clarity. 

Yaku is right. Even if their answers were different, nothing will change in the grand scheme of things. The moment has passed and won’t ever come back. It would be pointless to feel like shit about it now, dwelling on what might have been instead of appreciating what they’ve had over the past few years. 

Rationally, Tetsurou convinces himself of that. Emotionally… he doesn’t know. It’s probably going to suck for a while, and maybe he’ll get frustrated and upset sometimes, but he would’ve rather loved Yaku in this odd, patchwork way of theirs than not at all. 

He thinks about Kenma telling him to have the ‘what are we’ talk with Yaku before he leaves for Russia, but Tetsurou decides he doesn’t want to. In the same vein, it won’t change much. In a way, they’ve already _had_ that conversation. No matter what, Yaku will still go to Russia, and Tetsurou will still remain here, and they will still be friends with years of trust and affection between them before anything else. He’ll just have to get used to that.

Tetsurou doesn’t regret whatever choices he’s made either. 

* * *

The old Nekoma team meets up for a farewell party a couple of days before Yaku is set to leave. It’s rowdy and nostalgic and the perfect goodbye, even if Lev does drink too much and has to be carried home by Inuoka and Shibayama working in tandem. They make a funny sight, and Tetsurou watches them stuff Lev into a cab with a wistful sigh. “Feels like just yesterday that was us,” he says, turning to Kai and Yaku. 

“Except you were the piss-drunk one between the three of us,” Yaku comments, taking another sip of his drink. 

Tetsurou bristles. “And you were the shortest.”

“We’re doing this _today_?” Yaku looks at him with fire in his eyes, mouth quirked into a grin Tetsurou would describe as ‘come hither’ were he more drunk.

Before he can respond, Kai lets out a low chuckle. “You two never change, do you?” Both heads swivel to look at him. “I’m going to miss this,” he says, tipping his glass towards Tetsurou and Yaku. “It won’t be the same with you gone, Yaku.” 

“Yeah,” Yaku says, his eyes downcast, as if he’s just realized what his dreams are going to cost him. “Yeah,” he repeats with a sigh. “I mean, I’m excited and everything, but it’s not really easy to leave things behind.” He meets Tetsurou’s eyes, then looks away. 

“Leaving something behind doesn’t necessarily mean losing it,” Tetsurou says idly. “You might be surprised at what you’ll find waiting for you when you come back.”

Kai looks from Tetsurou to Yaku, bemused, and seems to realize that this is a conversation he doesn’t need to participate in. He drains his glass and stands up, patting Yaku on the back. “Well, I have a client to visit early tomorrow, so I’ll head out. Take care, Yaku. Kuroo.”

They’re the only two left after that, and eventually decide to settle up the bill and leave. Tetsurou pays—feels like he ought to, as the former captain, but he would otherwise too, because it’s for Yaku.

It’s a bit chilly outside. Yaku sticks close as they decide to walk back to the station instead of taking a cab, in hopes the trek will sober them up. Prolonging the farewell too, since he knows it’ll be hard to see Yaku again before he has to leave. 

“I should’ve bought you a gift,” Tetsurou says suddenly. A farewell present, something to remember him by. Maybe Lev had the right idea after all. He looks down at the scarf wrapped around his neck—brand new, a deep scarlet—and unwinds it. “Here.” He drapes it around Yaku’s neck, much to his surprise. 

“Why are you giving me your hand-me-downs?”

“This is brand new!”

“Well.” Yaku buries his face in the scarf and takes a deep breath. Tetsurou thinks he catches the hint of a smile on his face. “Kinda smells like you, but I don’t mind that. Thanks.” 

Whatever response he was going to give dies in his throat in the face of Yaku’s sincere gratitude. Tetsurou swallows instead and stares ahead.

After a few minutes, Yaku breaks the silence again. “I thought you would be more upset,” he says slowly, almost grudgingly. “About me leaving. Or maybe I wanted you to be more upset. I don’t really know myself.” 

“You think I’m not upset?” Or maybe, _upset_ isn’t the word he’s looking for. Exhaling, Tetsurou looks up as he walks. He feels like he won’t be able to define it for a while, if ever. “Nah, I just… Caring about someone means acknowledging you don’t own them, you know?” He looks at Yaku and, ignoring the ache in his chest, continues, “You’re gonna go places without me, and instead of being miserable about it, I’d rather just support your dreams.”

Yaku is quiet. “Since when were you wise?” he says finally, bumping Tetsurou’s arm with his own. “Seriously, since when do the things you say actually make sense? You’re almost cool.” 

“ _Almost_?” He places a hand on his heart, wounded. “I’ve always been cool, Morisuke.” 

“Whatever you say, Tetsu.” It’s hard to decipher the emotion in Yaku’s eyes. Not that Tetsurou makes more than a perfunctory attempt at trying. Maybe he’s still a little tipsy—he gets lost in Yaku’s eyes instead. 

Seized by the sudden impulse, he leans down and kisses Yaku. Maybe it’ll be their last kiss—for a while, forever—but he thinks he doesn’t want to regret not taking the chance when it’s there in front of him. Love’s an all-or-nothing feeling, and he’s an all-or-nothing guy. And maybe, despite all his misgivings, despite all the rationalization, despite everything, he’s all-or-nothing for Yaku.

Yaku blinks as he pulls away, his face reddening. “What was that for?”

“Goodbye kiss,” Tetsurou says, brushing a thumb over his cheek and grinning. “Hope you strike the fear of God into every single one of your opponents in the mighty and cold land of Russia.”

“You know I will.” He looks like he wants to say more, but shakes his head and reaches over to lace his fingers through Tetsurou’s. “I’m going to come back.” 

Tetsurou knows. “I’ll be here.”

“I’m not asking you to wait for me,” Yaku adds sternly, then sighs and elaborates. “For whatever this is, or whatever it could be.”

“I know.” Just like Tetsurou won’t cling onto him, Yaku won’t drag his heart out of his chest and take it to Russia either. Neither of them are all that selfish, and in some ways it’s a shame. “I’ll wait anyway—because I want to.” It’s not an _I love you_ , present tense, in so many words, but the meaning behind it is the same. He’s pretty sure Yaku hears it too. 

“Man.” His eyes are a little red. “How am I supposed to respond to that?” 

Tetsurou wants to quip that he can’t, but Yaku pulls him in for another kiss and he forgets how to speak altogether. “I’ll send you a postcard,” Yaku says, once he pulls away. 

“Or nudes?”

He laughs, open and bright. Tetsurou wishes he could bottle the sound for the time Yaku’s going to be gone. “Take the postcard, heathen.”

“You could add a dirty little drawing on the back or something. I’d accept that.” 

“If you don’t shut up, I’m going to kiss you again.”

Tetsurou grins. With a challenge in his eyes, he leans down, just out of Yaku’s reach. “Bet?” 

“Bet,” Yaku says, his eyes crinkling into a smile.

There’s a nip in the air, and Russia’s going to be much, _much_ colder than this, if Tetsurou can ever muster up the inclination to visit (“Yeah, it would be creepy if you showed up there, but come visit anyway”), but in this moment— _this moment_ —all he thinks about is Yaku, and how he makes him feel warm.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not sure why i wrote this or where it came from, but it's (waves hands) (keeps waving hands)!! i feel a little awkward about writing future fic--to be clear, this isn't really what i envision ~canon~ to be; the idea just wouldn't leave my head--but i tried! anyway!! thank you for reading, and find me on [twt](https://twitter.com/bokuto_mp4) or hmu on [cc](https://curiouscat.me/omoiyaris) if you're so inclined!


End file.
